Poetry
five
Seasons
I used to love the seasons
Now I try to find one in a day
Sometimes all four, and others
But I still revel in fall wind causing me
To zip my jacket in early February
City Tone
People across the way are getting work done
Cluttered offices, boxes in windows, sill loaded
On the other side, direct view down hallway
Lined with photos, bricks in reflection, our gargoyle
This city's primary tone is ambiguity
A building here, a spire there, nothing connected
February 10, 2017
Washington DC
Flows
I saw a couple embrace passionately on the corner
An old woman holding a young woman's hand
A woman escorting two toddlers
A blast of sun in warm February almost March
Against black and grey granite façade
River
This is where I'm a poet:
Right here, at the edge of the river, in the cold
Those colors at the end of day, in winter
I'm able to have my own views out here
And I can hear the water lapping
I love this curved building lit up at night
Like somewhere in Germany
Riverside
Sun shatters on river plane
Black line of shore across
Children return home silently
Guided by parents and caregivers
Dogs walk happy but meek
The children too are timid
Trees are black extensions
Complicated masses in front of
White and grey brilliance